For years my brain locked away years of memories of abuse and rape. At 10 some of these memories came back to me. Luckily, my brain waited until I was older to tell me the rest of the story. I have suffered ever since. Nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety, fear, pain, living with a broken heart of a child. Reality crashed down upon me the thousand bricks and now I crawl out from underneath each brick each day.

The greatest mystery of life is who we truly are. Now as I can remember the repeated rapes I also remember the resilient little girl behind the smiling mask. I was a chameleon who knew the world would not understand my pain. The burden of child abuse and survival is not something that anyone should suffer alone. I kept their secrets and did what was expected of me to survive the world that treats survivors as perpetrators. I was a chameleon to survive and to live again. I hid my PTSD, the abuse I suffered from countless people and from the world behind my smile. I smiled to say that I’m okay, that I’m one of you, but I’m not. I no longer hope for acceptance nor do I want to be accepted by people who would minimize or excuse rape and abuse. I do not want to be counted among those who are ignorant or ignore it.

My mind is slowly revealing to me who I truly am. I am a survivor of child sexual abuse and partner rape. I will no longer remain silent or hide behind the mask of a smile for anyone’s comfort. I am a survivor and I was a resilient child that grew up to still love deeply and be kind. They could not take that from me and they cannot have it now. Each memory is like suffering all over again my body is racked with pain but I still live.

I no longer hide, I no longer wish to be accepted or to act accordingly. I no longer care to fit in. I know the world is cruel and I will live anyway. Now I take off the mask and reveal my true self, not just a survivor but a warrior, still alive, scars and all. My story does not end here but my true life and purpose begins here.

The symptoms of my PTSD have become so intense that I started to spiral down again. Even though I am surviving I do not feel that I am improving at this point. I’ve decided to get back into therapy and had my first appointment on Monday. This was not a regular therapy session but an introduction and an intake session. Basically, I spilled my guts about the multiple traumas my life to a complete stranger in a little room. This is nerve-racking in itself but disclosure of my traumatic events is a trigger that I have to fight as well. I felt okay for the first couple hours after this intake session but that evening I started feeling more anxious and scared. I think I was subconsciously dealing with telling someone. There used to be safety in secrets.

On a positive note, I really like the new therapist and her collaborative approach to therapy. I felt respected and my symptoms that are causing the most distress taken seriously. She even took more time with me to draw up a safety plan and some popular grounding techniques to help me to self sooth. I am simultaneously looking forward to and dreading the work. I know I will feel better if I keep going and that helps to motivate me to keep at it. I have found that I feel worse before I feel better when stating therapy. I have some weird issues about self reliance and failing that are not healthy. I’m trying to rewrite over the damaging lessons I was taught and that society reinforces. I won’t let my pride get in the way of living a better life.

My next appointment is tomorrow. I am calming down from disclosing the abuse and some new memories. Now I’m feeling myself rev back up again in anticipation of tomorrow. I’m nervous but healing and coping through PTSD is the most important work of my life. The alternative is death so the choice is pretty clear. If I want a better life I’m going to have to have to fight for it. Good thing my mom raised a fighter!

I have these thoughts sometimes when things get rough: “Why am I sticking around just to suffer more…” NOT GOOD! This is not a fucking test. This is my alert that depression is cropping up again. That way of thinking serves nothing and no one. It is a servant of the abyss and well, that motherfucker is not the boss of me any longer.

Do you remember that little part I was telling you about that is healed? The part that doesn’t think everything sucks? Yeah, that part is rejecting the previous statement in a pretty defiant display that has me laughing to myself. I am very visual and the healed part just bare-assed mooned the abyss!

Feels kinda like that show Supernatural when Dean insults death and everyone’s, “OH SHIT, NOW WTF?” I half expect the abyss to rise up some big hand made of black water to drag me back but nothing happens. It’s like someone stopped the record with a screech. The silence was creepy like impending doom but that doom never showed up.

—-deleted paragraph that was me just being too hard on myself because fuck that shit. Nice try though!—-

Back to what I was saying. Despite what dumb fucks say in every message system I have, I do have a lot to live for. The main reason I haven’t taken some way out to end all the pain is my family. It would hurt them and I can’t abide that even if that means I will suffer more. It’s worth it to me. I also just adopted a new family member. Her name is Lilly and she is a 5 lb, 3 year old smooth coat chihuahua (pics of her coming soon!).

Another reason to stick around: Become the crazy old dog lady! See steps below!

Along with that beautiful memory I wrote about before that was much like warm honey I also unlocked another horrific memory yesterday that was the polar opposite. In the past this type of memory would have put me on my ass for a few weeks or even months. I call these new memories because I’m experiencing the memory for the 1st time but I’m remembering something that actually happened. Sounds fucked, I know, and it is. Again, my mind saved my life by locking this away until I was strong enough to deal with it. I don’t usually feel strong enough to handle them when they happen but I always manage to get through it.

What I remembered was worse than before. I thought I knew what happened but still, there is more I didn’t know. I have to get through these memories but really, I don’t want to know any more. More terror, more pain…and this time I…I can’t talk about it yet. I feel like I need to keep the details to myself. It is difficult to express in words an event that happened before you has a grasp on language. Have you ever learned something or see/watch/witness/read something and you were hurting from it afterward even though it didn’t happen to you? I feel like this would do that to people. I’m still trying to protect others. I guess it doesn’t help that my 1st therapist basically ran from me when I started to tell her what I was remembering. I was 10 then. I haven’t had much luck with therapists since. It seems that they don’t want to listen after a few months and push alternative therapies besides talk. I want to talk, I need to talk, to get this out.

This is the burden I carry knowing I need to talk to someone but they bail on me so I have been relying on myself, talking to my family for support without any details. I’ve come far. What I know, what I experienced, hurts other people when they learn it. It hurts so much. The choice is pretty clear. Process or die so I will process this too. I’m going to find a way to deal with this with art and dance and writing. I can’t share this memory yet. I need to dissect this and mourn for myself. It really is awful to not remember and it is really awful to remember what happened.

The picture is becoming more clear now and it is flaying me emotionally. I’m going to be ok. This is actually progress even though it hurts just as much as the 1st time I remembered that I was raped. I’m an adult now and I have experience with remembering trauma. So much pain, so much sadness, so much! Why am I not dead yet? Because I chose to live in spite of this suffering every fucking day. I will not give up.

I’m resistant and pissy about it but maybe it is about time for some more therapy and guidance. I might try some online therapy options I saw. I do not want to slip back into getting super depressed and this is one of those memories where I’m not sure if I’m more healed and being a badass or it hasn’t fully sunk in. I’m definitely disassociating more often and my anxiety is more frequent since the new memory. I’m waiting to fall apart again or the other shoe to drop. I’m pretty raw right now. My head hurts and I’m going to bed to relax with some music my facebook and twitter friends suggested.

Due to PTSD I have memory issues. My mind protected me by locking away memories so that child me could survive. I’m processing a little at a time as new memories of more trauma come through. The bad thing is that there are some days when I can’t remember much of anything about my childhood, good, bad, or otherwise. The whole damn things gets locked up and inaccessible. I can remember different things on different days. It is very frustrating and it could be part of my dissociation making me feel so disconnected to myself. Anxiety does not help this at all. Some days I just have to let myself fall apart over and over again and then pick up the pieces. It’s exhausting!

A couple days ago I was loopy(ok, I’m still loopy) from my PTSD meds combined with Dayquil and I drifted into this lovely warm memory and it was really weird. It was definitely a memory but it was BEFORE the sexual abuse. It was be before I was hurt. It was PRE-Trauma me. I have had no recollection of pre-trauma me until that memory. I checked my journals. I used to feel really sad about my 1st memory being of pain and terror. I accepted it, did the work, and then this memory hits me like a giant fluffy comforter that is fresh out of the dryer! I sat in the comfort of this warm memory coming into focus.

My new 1st Memory

I am very young(maybe 2) and I’m at my grandmother’s house. She is smiling as she is looking down at me. I can’t really make out what she is saying but the tone is pure love. It has a sweetness that makes me feel all warm and I grin more as she continues to speak. I can’t understand her because I don’t speak English yet. I’m still a baby. I’m loved and safe and….

I’m crying now as I write this. The massive feeling of love and being grateful just hit me again. My grandmother passed away about 6 years ago so I am sad but I am so grateful because what a gift to be loved like that! This brought back a tumble of other wonderful memories of my family. I sat with the good memories for the 1st time in a very long time.

I just wanted to share that because it really felt like a big breakthrough for me. I also have to scoff a little of the irony that I had to fully accept not remembering for the memory to come through. Also, go DayQuil or the fever or whatever. I’m grateful. I think it is because I’m talking about it all again and without hesitation or shame, too. Hack my brain with love and sass? Seems to be my answer so far.

Here’s some silly! I think I need to end with some silly on my posts because I cover some heavy stuff and laughter is good for us!

The idea of trying to have a low stress lifestyle in 2016 seems a bit silly now with everything that has happened. I’d name them all but I’d rather not think about all that right now. It might send me back into that silence again. I made myself a promise the other day and I’m keeping it. The promise was to stop being silent. My silence was an attempt at more peace. The result was even more hate mail and bullshit than before. The death threats from idiot men deciding I owed them my time started back up. So out of the healing cocoon I come but instead of being healed I’m on fire! You can see some of what I’m talking about on facebook but twitter is where I really let it all hangout…for about 4 days.

My Promise:

I won’t be silent anymore. Silence is death. Silence enables abusers and continues the cycle. It protects the abusive ones(FUCK THAT SHIT)! This doesn’t mean I have to respond either but I don’t need to hold back or internalize it. Gotta just blow up when I need too. Express my pain, frustration, sadness, and joy. I’m not interested in protecting others from my pain anymore. Here it is. I know it hurts. This is me HEALING OUT LOUD. I won’t let anyone or anything(EVEN ME) silence me ever again.

Now is the time to boldly exist. Stop trying to blend in and not be noticed. If they come for you, so be it. Make it a good death! It is ok to fall apart and reform again. Do it a million times. I’m going to be loud for me. I’m going to be loud for everyone that is still silent. I speak only for me but let my loud mouth encourage others to find their strength and their voice. Be loud about love, hate, and everything in between.

Also in 2017:

-Take no shit

-Say no

-Be silly

-Keep healing

-Create

-Be weirder

-Be grateful

-Offer compassion

-Be a handful

-Live

I’m sorry that I was so quiet. I apologize to myself and to you out there that follow along if you were worried. I promise not to do that again. It really didn’t serve anyone. I feel like it was a mistake but one I learned from. I forgive myself and move forward from here, continuing to heal. I’m not able to be very consistent but I’m trying hard to get there. I hope you will come along with me on my healing journey. It will be easier if I don’t go it alone and I could really use your help. Thank you for reading and being here for me. Many things have saved my life continually and your support is definitely one of them.

If you are receiving death threats online know that it is illegal. You can contact your local authorities as well as the FBI. Federal crime (18 U.S. Code § 2261A – Stalking) (fbi.gov/contact-us). Document everything!

PTSD with anxiety is what I’m dealing with now. It has happened before and I’m sure it will many times as I cycle through the phases of healing. I really wish with all my heart that this process was faster. It takes as long as it takes. In the meantime, my heart races several times a day in the form of anxiety attacks. I’m doing my best to cope in healthy ways.

I haven’t written on this blog for awhile. I think I needed some alone time. Some quiet. It’s been a really rough year. Certain stages of healing make me mourn for my denial bubble. Knowledge is power, sure, but some of it hurts like hell. Sometimes it pisses me off. PTSD with anxiety is really painful emotionally and physically. I feel exhausted constantly.

Lots of things can help with anxiety: music, breathing, changing your immediate environment, ect. As recommended in the book, Courage to Heal, I am working on a list to refer to when I get desperate. Anxiety makes it difficult to think straight or remember things. Desperate feelings are one of the least pleasant things about it. I’m also resistant to things that are actually helpful and tend to rebel against them. Go figure! The right thing to do for myself is not always the easiest or 1st thing I think about.

Here’s my list below. Feel free to swipe it for yourself and add too it, make your own list. Print it out or write a copy, I’m printing mine out to tape up and see in a couple rooms. May we all find peace.

1. Breath
2. Wiggle your toes. Feel the ground under your feet. Feel the temperature of the room
3. Chew some gum.
4. Listen to some uplifting music
5. Let yourself cry
6. Find something to laugh at. Be silly but don’t criticize yourself
7. Play with my dog
8. Work on an art project
9. Dance to some funky beats
10. Yell into a pillow
11. Hit the pillow
12. Throw that fucker! (safely, lol, I’m laughing already)
13. Tell someone how much you appreciate them
14. Write a diary entry about what I’m grateful for
15. Remind myself that it is ok if I’m still anxious even after trying 14 things. Practice compassion.
16. Write a letter to my child self
17. Talk to myself in sign language in front of the mirror
18. Write in my journal
19. Call a family member
20. Help someone else
21. Listen to the soothing audio and video files from this program or other soothing guided relaxation
22. Record my own guided relaxation audio
23. Go for a walk or exercise/yoga/stretching
24. Verbalize out loud how I’m feeling

There are probably a lot more things to do that could help someone else. I haven’t included those due to my own personal triggers. It is also not in order. I skip around a lot. That is how my brain works though. Do what works for you! Some of them are: take a bath/shower, Wrapping yourself in a blanket and hugging yourself, meditate, ect. There are tons more that you can use to care for yourself when you are experiencing anxiety.

Thank you for reading my blog. It has really helped me to have a place to write and share. It feels so amazing to not have to carry this secret anymore. It released so much shame to just come out and tell people. Secrets perpetuate abuse so fuck that. I would promise to write more but I just don’t know if I will be able too. I’m living day to day, hour to hour, sometimes even minute to minute. PTSD with anxiety or whatever shitty symptom pops up to haunt me can fuck off. I’m living through this. I don’t mean to ruin the ending for you but SPOILER ALERT: PTSD doesn’t kill me.

Accepting myself the way I am has also led me to learn more about myself. What is really me and what is the PTSD? Will I really be that different as I heal more? This is confusing to me. I meet myself everyday, where I am. I’m looking forward to knowing more about myself that is my true self and not who I tried to be for the abusive people in my life. Yes, you read that correctly, I severely adjusted my behavior to survive in such a deep way that I was lost to who I really am.

To survive I learned to be quiet and still. Don’t get noticed too much. Don’t feel too much. DON’T CRY. Be as numb as you can and don’t make waves or stir shit. Stay out of everyone’s way. Don’t talk about yourself. Don’t be proud or creative or think outside the box. Don’t offer your opinion no matter how much you think it is right.

Of course the real me peeked through and reached out anyway. This usually got me into trouble but one of the times the real me came out was when I decided to quit my office job to dance on stage for dollars. “An adventure!” I enthusiastically thought as I smiled to myself. My rebellious side devoured this new delicious feeling…and the freedom. I danced and swayed, I climbed around on the globe cages like a monkey and got completely ripped. Something else strange happened. People told me nice things. I know it may seem strange but I wasn’t used to it at all. After awhile, all these positive comments from staff, other gals, and customers started to seep in a tiny bit. I met a touring gal that was selling magazines and DVD’s and I had to meet her. I always wanted to be in magazines since I found a Penthouse mag hidden in a closet. To my surprise she told me I was beautiful and I should go to Los Angeles. I could get a lot of work and definitely be in the adult magazines.

With the little bit of confidence I had gained along with that true bit of myself that is eternally and weirdly optimistic I started to research. I found an agent and agreed to fly to LA and shoot porn! I was 23 years old and had never flown in an airplane. My true self came through and I faced my fear of flying. I ran off and joined the porn circus figuring they would throw me back but what the hell. Adventure!

They didn’t toss me back. In fact, they embraced me and helped me. I live my life on my terms now. The adult industry has been what has allowed me to take these past 2 years to heal. There is still a huge stigma about the adult industry. Without it I would be living in poverty. Will I ever be able to be hired at a regular job after being in the adult industry for over 10 years? Nope, probably not. That’s ok, I don’t want to work for other people anyway. One of the amazing things I’ve learned is that I can make my own way. I get to be my true self, no matter what that self is that day. I get to live many lives and explore myself, the artist inside of me, my sexuality. ALL THE THINGS I want are open and waiting for me to experience, to have, to live. I will thrive.

Who Am I?

I’m strong, resilient, adventurous, thoughtful, empathetic, loving, LOUD, sassy,bossy, wicked, and someone who stands up for other people and includes everyone as much as I can. I’m creative and kind, silly and moody. I overshare. I am a survivor. I have survived each day no matter what happens. I’m still here. I’m still living my life and loving the best way I know how. I want to lift people up as I get better too. I’m proud of myself and I don’t care anymore about who doesn’t like it. PROUD! I’m that person that wants everyone to succeed and do well. I don’t compete with others. I have boundaries and I’m still learning to establish them and stand up for myself. I make up words and silly songs. I cry happy tears and sad tears every day. I love passionately and feel passionate about everything I’m interested in. I go off on tangents and I forget that I’m human needing things like food. I’m a work in progress that I don’t want to ever stop. Always forward, onward upward. I told you, weirdly optimistic. Sometimes, I’m pretty damn brave. I’m really sensitive. I don’t take criticism well. I tend to shift my boundaries or ignore them to explore. This is both a source of immense growth and can be pretty dangerous too. What is a comfort zone anyway?

I recently took a bunch of online tests for fun and just explore what would come up. After about 10 Myers & Briggs personality tests I kept coming up ENFP. I had to retake the test a bunch of times because I took it a long time ago and I tested as something completely different. I couldn’t believe someone just laid it all out there for me to read about myself, my true self that I tried to hide from everyone. What is described is literally me when I am being my high functioning self. This made so much sense to me. It helped me to realize that many of the things I was taught to repress as “not ok” was part of my true self and my personality. Fuck repressing myself. Fuck holding back. Also fuck pants and repetitive boring shit that people expect. Fuck expectations and bullshit from narcissistic assholes. I come from love and I will continue to treat the world with love. I now turn this immense love I have had for other to myself. Nothing stops me from what I want unless I let it. I look forward to further developing myself and growing into ME. Not who they told me to be, who they said I was, who they wanted me to be…just ME.

I have made a lot of progress with my healing and I feel myself continuing to heal. No matter the stresses in life, I’m learning to cope in healthier ways. I feel a new hope as I put myself out there more instead of being a hermit and just keeping to myself. I’m not able to go and do ALL THE THINGS I want to. Sometimes, I feel I’m missing out on adventures and experiences but taking care of me means knowing my limits. With increased stress, even good stress, my symptoms of PTSD flare up.

My last flare up was so scary I didn’t even know what to do. I was around all these beautiful strong women. I was so excited to get back out into the world and be apart of things again! Unfortunately, that’s when one of the scariest things in my life happened. I started to hallucinate. Out of the right side of my vision, I kept seeing someone. A flicker, a sense there was a person. It is not a real person that is physically there. I saw someone looking in the window as I was sitting at the table with my friends. I felt like I was losing it. It continued into the next day. I was caring for my Mom because she was sick with a stomach bug and my brain didn’t let up. It wasn’t that someone was there, it was the feeling that that someone was coming to get me, hurt me. Talk about fucking paranoia!

Every few minutes I felt compelled to look to the right. I sat by her bedside and watched TV with her all the while feeling like someone was there when no one was. No one was going to come around the corner from the bathroom. I knew I couldn’t go back to spend time with my friends like that. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself. I realized then I was pretty ashamed of this new development. I texted my friend the next day telling her that I was having a hard time and apologized for not being up to going out. I braced for her to be angry but she wasn’t at all. She sent me LOVE, not apathy for my situation like many have in my past. I’ll always remember that.

What I didn’t realize at the time was this started not long after moving into my new place. I couldn’t reflect when I was being startled so much with the perceived threat in my peripheral vision. I often don’t want to get others involved in my pain. It started with the bedroom door. I kept feeling like someone was there. I kept looking at it, open or closed, I kept checking. No one is there but the fear is real, the terror was all but unbearable. It was physically painful but not as much as the mental anguish. I even started looking into a PTSD facility that maybe I could go stay in for some help.

On Sunday I watch ones of my favorite shows and it was the episode where we all learn why Hodar says Hodar instead of talking. He was really saying HOLD THE DOOR. I watched it and was finally able to cry. He held that fucking door. That night I tried to sleep in my bed but I just couldn’t. I joked to myself that I needed a Hodar. Someone to hold the door for me to keep me safe or just sit in front of it so the door couldn’t be moved. I wished my room had no doors or windows, no way to get to me. I’m thankful for this wonderful scene in the show. I had a breakthrough. I also slept on the couch for a few nights before I was able to sleep in my bedroom again.

The door in my bedroom as a child was also in the same orientation as it is now. The door was on the right. I would stare at the door for hours in terror, listening to every little noise, watching for the shadows to move under the door to let me know if it was going to happen again. A huge amount of time in my life at that time has been devoted to paying extreme close attention to every little detail to let me know if I was safe or not. I barely slept. It is exhausting.

How sad is it that a bedroom itself is scary? The place you are supposed to feel safe, in your own home, in your own bed. Not for me. This is what they mean when they say normal everyday things can be a trigger. I had no sense of safety. I almost re-arranged my bedroom but decided against it. I decided that I wasn’t going to change anything and that instead of fearing the door I would tell the door that I was an adult now and nothing that could be behind it would be as scary as ME.

When I started therapy and decided I wasn’t going to take my own life, I dragged a foam mattress into the living room. I slept there for a year until I moved into an apartment. When I moved into my current home, I bought a beautiful new bedroom outfit as a reward to myself. I made the bedroom my sacred space for rest. I try my best to adhere to a strict routine. For the past 2 weeks when the alarm at 8pm goes off, I take sleeping pills. So far, this is working great and I’m sleeping better than I have in my whole life. I still look at the door but it is not as scary now. I feel hope now that I will continue to get better.